


Voldecorp (TM)

by fantom_ftnoise



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (but you don't need to have watched the office to enjoy this), Christmas Party, Crack Treated Seriously, Documentary, Evil Corporations, F/F, F/M, Fire, Gross Misuse of 3D Printers, Halloween, Humor, M/M, Muggle AU, Neville's Plants, POC Blaise Zabini, POC Harry Potter, POC Hermione Granger, POC Pansy Parkinson, Retail AU, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Ubiquitous References to The Office (US), Valentine's Day, episodic, mockumentary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 12:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15461355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantom_ftnoise/pseuds/fantom_ftnoise
Summary: Harry is happy to work with his friends. He's happy to work under Store Manager Dumbledore and the sharp-tongued Assistant Manager McGonagall, though he questions the decision to let Snape supervise the Beauty Department. He's happy stocking shelves and stalking - er,prankingMalfoy at the Jewelry Counter. Sure, corporate conglomerates monopolize the economy and are the driving source of bureaucratic evil in the world, but you've gotta work somewhere, right? So Harry's happy to work here.But when precious gemstones are accidentally processed into Malfoy's inventory, it's up to Harry to protect the Philosopher's Wife's Earrings from the mysterious forces of Tom Riddle Jr., CEO of Voldecorp ™.Meanwhile, after a string of bad publicity, the Board of Directors enlists a documentary company to follow the employees of the Voldecorp Mega-Store. Bypassing the authority of Riddle's Corporate Offices, the Board hopes this unique method will let them see for themselves what it's really like to work "in the future of business."This is an episodic mockumentary type of story. It combines TV script-format with a traditional story, and the narration is written from the POV of a camera!





	1. Diversity Training

**Author's Note:**

  * For [XxTheDarkLordxX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxTheDarkLordxX/gifts).



> The concept for this Retail-AU came about in the Drarry discord and grew from there. So many people have contributed ideas to this story! Though I can't say it's truly mine to give, I'm gifting this work to XxTheDarkLordxX for commiserating with me about customer service and retail hell, which ultimately led to this.
> 
> Thank you to alpha readers Estrella ([hogwartsfirebolt](https://hogwartsfirebolt.tumblr.com/)), [gnarf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnarf/pseuds/gnarf), [DoubleApple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleApple/pseuds/DoubleApple), and [keyflight790](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyflight790/pseuds/keyflight790) for helping me to wrap my head around this bizarre type of story, and many thanks to Rose ([musingsofaretiredunicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingsofaretiredunicorn/pseuds/musingsofaretiredunicorn)) for her sharp eye as beta! I seriously cannot thank this team enough for helping me get this first episode posted.
> 
> This is a WIP and the episodes will be posted as they're written.
> 
>  
> 
> Credits for Episode 1: Thank you to kris ([slythrns-heir](http://slythrns-heir.tumblr.com/)) for finding the [mood music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gdJWZxPW45c&list=PLtLxKKfBFq4p0FV1krsZ8A031gWjPjdKw) and for all things Blinny; to Rose ([musingsofaretiredunicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingsofaretiredunicorn/pseuds/musingsofaretiredunicorn)) for Lee on intercom, Blaise in Men's, and all things Pansmione; Estrella ([hogwartsfirebolt](https://hogwartsfirebolt.tumblr.com/)) for Bellatrix and the Voldecorp motto.

 

* * *

 

 **Episode 1:** Diversity Training

 

 **Summary:** Human Resources implements a new training seminar to make Voldecorp a more inclusionary place.

 

* * *

 

June 2005

 

_[A mega-conglomerate store featuring everything one could possibly need: food, clothing, shoes, makeup, jewelry, camping & sporting goods, technology, crafts & hobbies, books, even pets and gardening. Finished floors and recessed lighting lend an air of elegance, though each department has its own design so that it’s like stepping into a different world when one crosses from Lingerie to Memoirs. A constant hum of human activity can be heard at all hours of the day, from opening (7am) until closing (midnight). Overhead speakers are mounted in the ceiling, barely visible but plenty loud for both [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gdJWZxPW45c&list=PLtLxKKfBFq4p0FV1krsZ8A031gWjPjdKw) and announcements.] _

 

It’s nine o’clock in the morning and first shift is well underway when Lee’s cheery voice interrupts the soft, carefully inoffensive music:

 

 _“Attention, employees!”_ The buzz of activity doesn’t slow; customers are accustomed to tuning out these announcements. _“As per our morning meeting, would the first round of you lot please join us in the conference room! Repeat: if you’ve been assigned to the first group, abandon your post post-haste and walk as slowly as possible to the conference room. Bonus points if you get in a customer’s way - ”_

 

 _“Lee!”_ a Scottish accent is heard over the intercom.

 

 _“Sorry, Ms. McGonagall.”_ There’s the tell-tale click of the intercom hanging up, and the music resumes.

 

A young man in a plain grey tunic sighs, tucking his inventory cart into a little-used dressing room alcove. He can hardly see over the sea of clothing racks, but he spots a shock of red hair and hurries over.

 

“Hey, Harry!” Her voice sounds oddly loud in the women’s clothing section; the ebb and flow of noise is muted by the fabric. Her pink employee tunic sports a sleek silver name-tag that reads _Ginevra W._

 

“Ginny,” he says, his face splitting into a wide grin. He gallantly offers her an arm as they head for the employee stairwell.

 

* * *

 

**_Interview: Luna_ **

 

"Introduce myself? Happy to! My name is Luna Lovegood. I like turnips and long walks on the beach."

 

_[Luna's voice is light and airy, and she looks straight up at the overhead sound boom as she speaks.]_

 

"I try to help everyone here, which is an awfully big job, of course. Harry's the same, but he's happy to visit his family in all the other departments. If you spot a redhead, they belong to Harry."

 

_[She's wearing a homemade grey tunic that nearly matches Harry's. Wild, dirty-blonde hair falls past her shoulders in such a way that no name-tag is visible on her chest.]_

 

"The Weasleys are all over this store. They sort of took Harry in, during school. His first family died in a car accident, you see, and his second family was no good at all. But his third family is _juuust_ _right_."

 

_[She smiles serenely and wanders away toward Sporting Goods.]_

 

* * *

 

9:06am

 

_[A conference room. Fluorescent lights, concrete floors, hard plastic chairs all facing a whiteboard mounted on the far wall, where two Human Resources representatives are waiting to start the meeting. These two are wearing suits with gold name-tags that display their full names.]_

 

“Take a chair, any chair,” Mr. Arthur Weasley says by way of greeting to the incoming lot. Beside him, his fellow HR rep Mrs. Bellatrix Lestrange settles for the curled-lip look. They stand on either side of the whiteboard, where _Diversity Training_ is written in large friendly letters.

 

Harry takes a seat between Ginny and Ron W., who thumps him on the back fondly. Cormac M., on Ron’s other side, is deep in conversation with Cho C. about the various benefits of vitamins on all aspects of the body, from hair and fingernails to muscle mass and bone strength. As the final few employees - all from a wide array of departments - slowly fill in the rest of the seats, Bellatrix shoots a look over to Mr. Percy Weasley - another suit with a gold name-tag.

 

Percy nods, clears his throat pompously, and starts the timer on his watch before ducking his head to take the minutes.

 

“Welcome, Voldecorp Employees, First Shift, Group One,” Bellatrix begins in a falsely bright, slightly dead voice, “to Diversity Training. This is a mandatory three part series which each employee _must_ complete...” her voice drones on in the background as the collective spirit of the group seems to die.

 

“Yes, that’s what mandatory means,” Hermione G. grumbles. Nobody seems to take notice, but behind her, Pansy P. smirks devilishly.

 

“Right,” Arthur huffs, taking over once Bellatrix is finished with her introductory spiel. “Diversity. What is diversity?”

 

Silence.

 

“Come on, don’t be shy.” He smiles benignly around the room, seeming to really enjoy himself while Bellatrix is barely managing to hold back a snarl. “Harry, my boy?”

 

Harry jolts in his seat before shooting a look over his shoulder at Hermione, as if asking for help or maybe just solidarity.

 

“Erm…being different?” he suggests, as if he’s speaking to an idiot, albeit a nice one. “Having...differences.” At Arthur’s encouraging nod, Harry grimaces and adds, “Like, skin color. Religion.”

 

An austere young man, wearing a sharp vest made of green silk and a gold name-tag that reads Draco M., snorts inelegantly and looks to the ceiling as if calling for divine intervention.

 

“Alright, Malfoy, what’s diversity then?” Harry snaps.

 

“Oh, I like your definition, Potty,” he sneers, leaning forward to look down the row at him. Ginny touches her hand to her forehead like she has a headache. “Except I would extend it to include intellectual differences as well.”

 

“What a fantastic addition, Mr. Malfoy!” Arthur nods, looking a little strained. “What are some other examples of diversity?”

 

“Gay,” Cormac calls out, leaning forward to send a not-so-subtle look at Draco, who carefully ignores him.

 

“Er - yes, very good,” Arthur says. Bellatrix is staring at Cormac with murder in her eyes as she writes _Gay_ on the whiteboard under _Race_ , _Religion_ , and _Simpleton Stock Boy._

 

No one else ventures an answer and the seminar continues. Bellatrix reads from a manual for twenty minutes and then a television on a cart is wheeled in. The lights are flicked off as the training video begins:

 

_An exterior shot of a Voldecorp mega-store with mountains in the distance and a full (but somehow not busy) car park. An attractive man with dark hair and intelligent eyes exits the store via the automatic doors, greeting the camera with a humble smile. He wears a bespoke suit._

 

_“Hello,” he says in a hypnotically smooth voice. “I’m Tom Marvolo Riddle Junior, founder and owner of Voldecorp. I wish to thank you personally for joining the Voldecorp team. Without you, our customers wouldn’t get the very best deals on the things that make life worth living.”_

 

_Tom turns back to the store, beckoning coyly for the camera to follow him. In subsequent shots, he’s gesturing to a variety of products within each department._

 

_“Things like camping gear, to take the family out for a weekend adventure. A warm, home-cooked meal made right here in the deli by a team of professional cooks! Computers and mobile phones to send your child off to University in style, and the books to keep them on track. Clothes for every occasion, from first dates - “ A shot of a nervous young couple in the food court “ - to weddings - “ A shot of a groom getting fitted for a tux “ - we’ve got everything you need to keep your family pure.”_

 

_Tom turns away from the Men’s clothing section and walks toward the camera, which slowly retreats, creating the illusion of forward-moving progress._

 

 _“But what do_ we _need?” Tom asks curiously. “What does Voldecorp need to make this dream a reality, not just in Great Britain, but around the world?” He stops, the camera stops. He plants his feet and holds his hands behind his back, inclining his head in a mockery of sincerity. “We need_ you _. Without you - without your heart, your spirit, your diversity - Voldecorp is just a series of buildings across the greater European area.”_

 

 _An asterisk appears at the bottom of the screen next to the caption:_ *North American locations coming soon in 2007 - apply for a transfer now!

 

_The camera slowly begins to zoom in on Tom as a variety of customers swarm the aisle: families of all nationalities and ages drift in and out of the frame. Everyone seems to be smiling, or holding hands, or reuniting with loved ones. The mood remains joyful but the activity falls out of frame as the camera zooms in for a tight shot of Tom's face._

 

_“Won’t you join me in making Voldecorp the greatest it can be? Talk to your Human Resources representatives today about how we can make our home more inclusive for everyone.” Tom smiles gently, his face very close to the camera now. “I’m Tom Riddle. Thank you for joining the Voldecorp team.”_

 

 _The image goes black except for the Voldecorp logo. A woman’s voice reads a familiar motto as it flashes across the screen, materializing under the logo of a coiled snake._ “Voldecorp: Keeping your family pure since 1979."

 

“What are some ways we can foster a diverse environment here at Voldecorp?” Arthur asks. Someone flicks the lights back on and the room at large seems to wake. Eyes blink blearily at each other as everyone straightens up, stifling yawns.

 

“We could start with our product adverts,” Hermione suggests brightly, but there’s a hard edge to her voice; Harry and Ron exchange knowing glances.

 

“We’re not really up for discussing the advertisements that corporate decides to play - “

 

“The signage around the store,” she corrects. “Is it only white people who buy fresh fruit? No. So why is it just white or ethnically ambiguous models that are smelling strawberries and unpacking picnic baskets in the photos?”

 

“Yeah,” Seamus F. chimes in. “An' I wanna see gay mannequins!”

 

“I’m sorry?” Arthur blinks rapidly. Bellatrix has not yet uncapped the whiteboard marker. She doesn’t look very impressed with how the meeting is proceeding.

 

“There’s all sorts of boy and girl mannequins in couple-y positions,” Seamus insists. “I wanna see the men holding hands for once!”

 

“Don’t you work in Technology?” Cedric D., wearing a flashy, multicolored apron, pipes up from the back of the room. Seamus fusses with his own black tunic.

 

“Well, yeah,” he admits. “But that don’t mean I don’t have eyes! I gotta walk past Men’s to get to tech in the back, don’t I? An' I should get to see two plastic blokes get it on just the same as the straight couple in Hawaiian shirts by Luggage & Travel!”

 

“Who let a pair of Hawaiian shirts within a mile of Men's?” Blaise Z. snaps. Ginny peeks over her shoulder at him, smothering a grin.

 

"Listen," Cedric goes on, cocking a brow at Bellatrix. "I don't think it's appropriate to have something like that up there," he says in a firm voice, nodding at the board.

 

"Cedric, it's fine," Harry murmurs, but it isn't heard through the crowd.

 

"I think it's wonderful that we employ such _diverse_ people here," Bellatrix coos, turning hard, giddy eyes on Harry, then Cedric, then Harry again.

 

"Just doesn't seem very professional, to insult your employee publicly in a meeting - and Harry works hard!"

 

"I said leave it, Cedric - "

 

" _Ickle_ _Harry_ works especially hard in the Beauty Department, doesn't he?" she retorts. Cedric falls silent and Harry looks at his lap, scratching the back of his head.

 

"Perhaps that's why it's doing so well!" suggests Arthur, looking stressed but cheerful.

 

“We should carry more sizes in Lingerie,” Pansy demands. “ _And_ plus-size lesbian mannequins. Right, Hermione, love?”

 

Hermione doesn’t seem to hear her; she’s whispering urgently with Seamus and taking notes in a huge notebook. Pansy squints in disbelief, turning to Blaise to mouth the words, _Where was she keeping that?_

 

"Jewelry sales have skyrocketed, alongside Beauty," Arthur's saying now, "and everyone is always well stocked. _Thank you_ , Harry." Harry looks as if he'd like to sink into the floor.

 

"Yes, _thank you_ , Potter," Severus S. says. As a manager, he wears a vest - rather than a tunic - that is pinstriped silver. His name-tag, like Draco's, is gold. "Whatever would we do without your...attention?"

 

Parvati P. raises her hand and begins speaking before anyone calls on her.

 

“My parents were driven out of business because of Voldecorp,” she begins. The room falls quiet, side conversations dropping off in a sudden hush. Bellatrix clears her throat pointedly, staring unblinkingly at the young woman. “They might return to India but if Voldecorp is just going to continue expanding globally, it’s hopeless.”

 

“Your point, Ms. Patil?” Bellatrix says in a dangerous voice. She’s holding the capped marker before her like a whip, ready to crack.

 

“My point is, if you’re looking for _authentic_ Indian jewelry, we’ve got a massive inventory and the resources to stock this region,” Parvati says evenly. “All high quality, genuine. We were doing very well until you started installing jewelry counters in Voldecorp stores.”

 

Draco bristles. “And what’s wrong, precisely, with our current inventory?”

 

“Only that it's all blood-diamonds, shoddy gems, and general crap,” she replies flatly.

 

“You wouldn’t know a ruby if it bit you on the nose!”

 

“Oh?!” She gestures at large to her many bangles and pendants.

 

“If your family knew what they were doing, they wouldn’t have been crushed by the competition.”

 

“Generations of jewelers in my family while your corporate daddy snags you a posh job selling third-rate rocks to old ladies! But you’re right," she scoffs, "I don’t know what I’m talking about because we don’t use _fancy lighting.”_

 

“Appearances matter,” Draco says in a rather snooty voice. From behind him, Blaise places a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head minutely as if it say, _You can stop now_.

 

"We're quite content with the way our inventory is outsourced," Severus adds.

 

"The point, Severus," Arthur interrupts before Parvati can retort, "is not to see profits improve, but to see _ourselves_ improve."

 

"It's just an internal PR campaign," Hermione says.

 

"Exactly!" Arthur cries happily, missing the roll of her eyes. "And if we - the employees - are happier, the customers are happier. So. What can we do to make our more...diverse…employees feel more included?"

 

It suddenly becomes very obvious that everyone in the room is looking - but trying not to - at Harry, Hermione, Parvati, and Blaise. Cho and Pansy meet eyes, exchanging looks that are both relieved and annoyed. Harry sighs heavily and Ginny pats him on the hand. From the row behind them, Blaise frowns at the small touch.

 

The silence goes on for a very long time. The hum of the fluorescent lights seems deafening. Percy has stopped taking notes. Bellatrix twirls the marker across nimble fingers, her wild hair looking out of place over her fitted skirt suit. Arthur tries to hum but it comes out squeaky, so he clears his throat instead. The silence continues.

 

"Food!" Molly W. cries. Everyone jumps. "I'd like to introduce - oh, er...ethnic cuisine - to the menu!"

 

Arthur beams at his wife, snatching the marker right out of Bellatrix's hand.

 

"Good golly, Molly!" he says, drawing a line under the first list and adding _Q...Que... ~~Kwizene~~... _ _Food_ to the board. "Splendid idea! Bells, let's get in touch with Corporate, see if we can't bring in a few specialists to teach our kitchen staff some new recipes."

 

Bellatrix isn't listening. She mumbles _Bells_ under her breath a few times, offering nothing else in response. Arthur clears his throat again, shooting a desperate look at Percy, who simply nods dutifully and takes a note.

 

"Right," says Arthur, looking rather hot around the collar. "If there's nothing else - this concludes our meeting for Diversity Training Part One. Please listen for Lee..." his voice is drowned out by the din of noise as everyone climbs to their feet, scraping chairs across the floor and rushing for the door.

 

On his way out, Cedric darts around Bellatrix's back and erases _Simpleton Stock Boy_ with one quick swipe of his apron.

 

* * *

 

**_Interview: Draco (Commons: Madam Umbridge’s Kit-Tea Parlor)_ **

 

_[Cats roam freely between the false garden and the inner parlor, contained by a pink picket fence around the open storefront. If it weren’t for the tile floors and dropped ceiling, instead of grass and sky, the parlor and its front garden could have passed for a proper house rather than part of the outer strip of the food court.]_

 

_[Alone at a table for two, Draco sips a tiny cup of tea formally, placing it carefully on its saucer before answering the question that was posed off-screen.]_

 

“My family has significant investments in Voldecorp.”

 

_[His words are as stiff as his posture. He tugs at his vest and adjusts his gold name-tag.]_

 

“The thing is though, I like jewelry. Repairs, commissions, sales - I’m very good at what I do. I’ve been hounding father for years to incorporate a jewelry section, it’s a natural extension to the other accessories we offer.”

 

_[He shifts in his seat, spinning the tea cup around and back again.]_

 

“It wasn’t my intention to - but really, the Patils could have sought out a buy-out! If their inventory is as good as they claim, they would’ve been quite comfortable. Loathe as I am to admit it - ”

 

_[Draco swallows thickly as if it’s causing him great pain to get the words out.]_

 

“If there’s one thing our jewelry selection lacks, it’s quality. Mind you, I’ve a new program I’m implementing, with estate sales - it’s sure to bring in a whole new inventory of authentic goods, even precious heirlooms! This will change everything.”

 

_[Grey eyes bright and stormy with determination, Draco sips his tea triumphantly. A huge orange cat with a squashed face leaps agilely onto the table. Draco rears back, holding his tea aloft, before hesitantly, awkwardly reaching out to pat the cat a few times.]_

 

“Hello, there…”

 

* * *

12:59 pm

 

_[The jewelry counter, located in the heart of the Beauty Department.]_

 

Draco takes his place in a huge circle of glass cases, removing the sign that reads _Taking lunch in the Voldecorp Commons (full of incredible choices)! Will return at_ _1pm_. He bustles about the counter, unlocking drawers and cabinets with a set of keys attached to his vest by a fine silver chain.

 

"Draco, this is Lavender," Parvati says, leading a bright-eyed young woman over. "She's taking over Makeup so I can go back to Hair with Cedric."

 

"Ah, part of our diversity initiative?" He extends a hand.

 

"Excuse me?" The smile drops from Lavender's face.

 

"Oh my - wow," Parvati says, gaping openly at Draco. "Just, _wow._  Would you stop being a spikey little princess for three minutes and just tell her what you do? She'll probably be your cover if something were to _happen to you."_ It's a clear threat.

 

Retracting his hand, he sets to work again, only looking mildly put out. He speaks in a tone of voice that suggests he's a _very_ busy man, despite there being no customers in the vicinity.

 

"I'm manager of my department," he explains. "Jewelry Wholesale & Consignment."

 

"Your department's just you, isn't it?" Harry calls across the Beauty floor as he pushes his cart of Women's inventory toward the back room.

 

"Yes, Potter, but I am not easy to manage," he retorts smoothly. Harry laughs uproariously as he trudges out of sight, but Draco doesn't seem to understand the joke. He pulls a face and bends to open a drawer. "As I was saying… _ARGH!"_

 

Harry doubles back, the wheels of his cart squeaking louder as he approaches, eyes sparkling behind old NHS frames. Draco is glaring daggers into the drawer and Severus, like a bat, swoops over from Makeup to investigate.

 

"Mr. Malfoy?"

 

"He put my tools in Jell-O again!" Draco huffs, pulling a plate of bright yellow gelatin out of the drawer and dropping it to the counter. Inside, a ring sizer and a pair of needle-nose pliers are clearly visible. "It's the third time!"

 

Face clinically straight, Harry merely raises his brows, a picture of innocent curiosity.

 

"C'mon, Lav, Cedric's more your type anyway..." The girls make a hasty retreat as Severus steps through a gap in the counter, examining the Jell-O closely as an investigator might treat a clue.

 

"Potter," he sneers. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

 

Harry sighs, looking down at his feet momentarily before peeking back up through his lashes. "Well, sir. I understand if you have to put me in _custardy_ ," he says dolefully. Severus scowls and Draco's glare could cut glass.

 

"All jokes aside," Draco says with a sniff. "Severus, I'm just concerned about _damage to company property."_

 

"You'll have to prove it was me," Harry is quick to reason.

 

This gives Severus pause and Draco looks between them, his anger dwindling to panic as he sees Harry's punishment slip away.

 

"Severus! Tell him _yes_ , that's exactly what you'll do!"

 

"And spend all afternoon reviewing security footage with Trelawney?" Severus scoffs. "I think not."

 

Draco opens his mouth to protest but Severus is already moving out from behind the counter. Unperturbed, Harry pulls a snack-sized container of Jell-O out of his cart and begins to dig in with a plastic spoon.

 

"Draco, be sure to clean those thoroughly," Severus demands as he stalks away. "I don't want customers complaining about sticky rings."

 

And with that, Draco and Harry are left alone with only a brightly lit counter and a plate of Jell-O between them.

 

"Potter," he growls dangerously. Harry swallows a mouthful of cherry-flavored gelatin.

 

"Oh, that's my walkie-talkie!" he says, patting his hip. There is no walkie-talkie. Draco's eye twitches. "Must need me in the back. See you round, Malfoy."

 

He sucks the spoon clean and sticks it right into the mound of yellow Jell-O on the counter. It jiggles. The wheels of his cart squeak loudly in an otherwise smooth retreat.

 

* * *

 

**_Quick Shots: No Sound Recorded_ **

 

_[In Sporting Goods, Ron W. and Cormac M., are wearing bright red tunics and sleek black athletic pants. Ron says something that makes Cormac laugh and they come together to share a long, complicated, exceedingly tedious handshake that ends with a jumping chest-bump.]_

 

_[In Gardening, Neville L. - wearing a brown apron - pulls a heavy potted plant off a high shelf, nearly upending it over himself but managing to steady it just in time.]_

 

_[In Books, Pansy leaves a small gift box on the Help Desk while Hermione has her back turned. As she leaves, she sways her hips in a slightly exaggerated manner. Ducking back into the clothing section down the aisle, she chances a peek over her shoulder and seems slightly annoyed that Hermione has not yet turned around.]_

 

* * *

**_Interview: Cedric (Beauty Department: Hair)_ **

 

_[Cedric D. is putting the finishing touches on a cut-and-dye job for a young boy with turquoise hair. As he works, he speaks to the camera.]_

 

"Harry and Draco?"

 

_[He huffs a laugh.]_

 

"Those two are at each other's throats all hours... I'm surprised there've been no actual punches thrown. When Harry and I were - "

 

_[He breaks off abruptly, going pink.]_

 

"We used to, er... _hang out_ , and he was always going on about his next prank against that _prissy prat Malfoy._ His words, not mine."

 

_[Cedric bends close to his young client, frowning.]_

 

"Don't repeat that to your grandmother, mind."

 

_[The boy wriggles impatiently under the salon cape, grumbling.]_

 

"Are we done yet?"

 

"You can't rush art, kid..."

 

_[Cedric loads his hands up with product, attacking the hair with gusto. A little sheepishly, he winks at the camera and smiles, as if he just can't help himself.]_

 

"I'm art."

 

* * *

 

**_Interview: McGonagall (Outside of Upper Management Offices)_ **

 

_[Wearing a gold vest with a gold name-tag, Ms. Minerva McGonagall whirls around to answer a question posed off-screen.]_

 

"Assistant Store Manager - if you'd bother yourselves to read the name-tag - and I don't have time for this. We've agreed to let you follow the workers in their day to day duties, as per the Board of Directors' research on worker morale."

 

_[She shifts the grip on her clipboard, using it to usher the camera operator away.]_

 

"That doesn't permit you to yap at our heels endlessly with your inane questions! I won't hear another word of this frivolous gossip! Don't you have footage to fire?"

 

_[An off-screen voice, slightly muffled, corrects her: "Shoot, ma'am. You shoot footage."]_

 

"You're lucky if I don't shoot you!"

 

_[She grips her clipboard in a decidedly threatening manner. A slight scuffle ensues as the crew races to retreat.]_

 

* * *

 

2:45 pm

 

_[The Help Desk of the Books Department.]_

 

Hermione examines the note on the gift carefully. _Hermione, my Queen,_ it reads in purple ink. The calligraphy is well done, but there's no signature. She turns back to the gift, brow furrowed.

 

It’s a moderately sized feather, oiled to shine, pressed flat, and sealed between thin layers of plastic. A bookmark. Possibly homemade, with the right materials.

 

“Dean over in Crafts has the makings for something like this,” she murmurs to Irma P., her elderly colleague.

 

Irma sniffs in frank disapproval and Hermione frowns, biting her lip. Carefully, as if it might bite her, she pulls the bookmark out of the little gift box and tucks it into her large notebook. Pensively, she runs a finger over the edge that sticks out, a frown still pulling on her lips.

 

* * *

 

3:12 pm

 

 _[HR Offices, located in a basement corridor near Upper Management. Across the window of the door, in large block letters, is painted_ Mr. Arthur Weasley _.]_

 

Not much can be seen through the closed blinds except for two figures, conversing quietly across a desk. A paper is signed and handed over. One figure stands, and then the other. They shake hands.

 

The door swings open and the camera backs up rapidly as Cedric steps out. He freezes upon seeing the camera before flashing a dazzling smile. Behind him, Arthur claps a hand on his shoulder.

 

“I’ll get this over to Corporate, Mr. Diggory,” he says, barely sparing a glance at the camera. “Thanks for coming forward. I can complain all I want, but what really counts is an official statement from someone who… Well, someone who isn't as close to the situation as I am.”

 

“I just think everyone should be treated fairly,” sighs Cedric. “She’s always had it out for him and nothing ever gets done about it. Maybe if it’s documented, things will change.”

 

“That’s what we’re here for in HR!” Arthur agrees. “Well - that’s what _I’m_ here for anyway.”

 

Cedric smiles grimly, sending a glare over to the door marked _Mrs. Bellatrix Lestrange_ , before heading back upstairs.

 

* * *

 

**_Interview: Harry (Grocery Department: Aisle 7)_ **

 

"My job..."

 

_[Harry grimaces as he pushes another can of cream onto the shelf. His wild hair sticks up in every direction and a faint, jagged scar can be seen on his forehead.]_

 

"I'm a stocker. Er - stocker, like I stock shelves. I don't _stalk_. Er, people. You know?"

 

_[He laughs uneasily and clears his throat, grabbing a few cans from the inventory cart.]_

 

"Although I _could_..."

 

_[Cocking his head, he pats the cart fondly.]_

 

"Nobody sees me when I have this cart. I call it my Cart of Invisibility!"

 

"Excuse me!"

 

_[A sour look crosses his face.]_

 

"Doesn't always work..."

 

_[He fixes a smile in place for the approaching woman.]_

 

"Yes, ma'am?"

 

"I'm looking for mallowmarshes."

 

_[She speaks if commanding a court jester. Harry blinks.]_

 

"Er - marshmallows?"

 

"No! Mallowmarshes. I don't trust the marshmallow brand - they use toothpaste in their recipe."

 

_[She's visibly trembling with barely contained...something. Harry darts a quick glance to the camera before mustering the patience to answer.]_

 

"Er, _no_. They don't, and marshmallow isn't even a brand. Look, they're on the bottom shelf - there's different brands _of_ marshmallows, but it's not a brand itself."

 

_[He stoops and retrieves two bags, holding one in each hand to display the logos.]_

 

"You're a cheeky one, aren't you?"

 

_[She snatches the bags out of his hands and observing them closely. Harry stares at the camera, face carefully blank while she considers her options. She does not look pleased.]_

 

"No. _No_ , I'm certain there's a bag of mallowmarshes somewhere. They carried it in the corner shop before Voldecorp came along and shut them down."

 

"Do you mean in 1979? Over twenty-five years ago?"

 

"Twenty five years - don't be silly, it couldn't've been more than ten. Now tell me, where are the mallowmarshes?"

 

"This is the original store, ma'am. It opened at this location in 1979."

 

"Well, what did you do with the corner shop's inventory?"

 

"Ma'am, Voldecorp didn't _literally_ take over their shop. I assume they just went out of business..."

 

_[The woman is not impressed and looks ready to carry on until Harry pulls a third bag of marshmallows from the back of the bottom shelf. He looks around conspiratorially, sneaking a wink to the camera. The woman leans in, eyes bright, as he whispers to her.]_

 

"I'll tell you a trade secret. This brand here, they got the mallowmarsh recipe, copied it right out. But they've kept it under wraps, yeah? Don't want a lawsuit. This is what you want, the one with the blue logo. Er - toothpaste-free, I promise."

 

_[The woman beams at him and pats him soundly on the cheek, leaving without another word. As soon as she's out of sight, Harry rolls his eyes and turns to face the camera.]_

 

"So this is what I do. I stock shelves, whatever department needs it most at the time. I've got a grey tunic, which means I don't really have a department of my own. I'm a floater. Luna, too - have you met her? She's brilliant."

 

**_Cut to: Luna (Gardening Department)_ **

Standing in several inches of water, Luna continues to hold a gushing hose over a thoroughly dead plant.

 

**_Return to Harry_ **

_[Back in Grocery, Harry considers an off-screen question with a furrowed brow.]_

 

"Malfoy's a piece of work, but he's harmless."

 

_[He looks both ways then uses the bottom shelf as a footstool to reach the top row. The thin sheet of metal bows under his weight but before it can break, he's back on the ground.]_

 

"His Dad spent a year or two in prison a while back - extortion - so his family gets a bad rep. He tries to put on airs, but he's harmless. Just a twat..."

 

 _[He adds that last part under his breath, his mouth going tight. He looks as if he'll say more - opens his mouth to speak - but hesitates, studying the can in his hands with unseeing eyes. Then he shakes his head, grinning crookedly at the camera as if to say,_ You almost got me.]

 

"It's fun to rile him up. It's not that I like him, or don't like him, or whatever you've heard... I just like it when he goes pink."

 

* * *

 

4:00 pm

 

_[A rustling noise and a slight ring of feedback, then Lee Jordan’s voice comes over the intercom system. The announcement is interspersed with shots of customers going about their business in various parts of the store.]_

 

“Attention, employees. Attention, employees. Mr. Cedric Diggory, please report to Warehouse Sector B, as per Bellabitch’s request. Repeat, Mr. Cedric Diggory, please get your pert little arse down to Warehouse Sector B - as in Basilisk - as per Bellatrix’s request.

 

“Godspeed, man.”

 

_[The intercom clicks off and the[music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gdJWZxPW45c&list=PLtLxKKfBFq4p0FV1krsZ8A031gWjPjdKw) resumes.] _

 

* * *

Tune in next week for Episode 2!

 

* * *

 


	2. Falling for It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corporate cuts back on employee hours, sparking a tentative alliance between foes.
> 
> (CW: Brief scene involving cigarette-smoking.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to alpha readers Estrella ([hogwartsfirebolt](https://hogwartsfirebolt.tumblr.com/)) and [DoubleApple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleApple/pseuds/DoubleApple) for helping me put together Episode 2! And many thanks to Rose ([musingsofaretiredunicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingsofaretiredunicorn/pseuds/musingsofaretiredunicorn)) for her continued dedication as beta!

**Episode 2:** Falling for It

  
**Summary:** Corporate cuts back on employee hours, sparking a tentative alliance between foes.

 

* * *

 

 

June 2005

 

10:35am

 

 _[Employee Break Room. Several low, circular tables are dispersed around a long, narrow room. Along one wall stand three industrial refrigerators. Taped to the front of each fridge is a sign that reads_ Please mark your lunches with a name  & date. Unclaimed food & food older than seven (7) days will be thrown out every Friday. _A few vending machines stand on the far side. Some of the overhead fluorescent lights are burned out, but overall it is a blindingly white, sterile room.]_

 

“Transferred, s’what I heard,” Seamus murmurs, leaning on his elbows into the tight circle gathered at the table.

 

“Probably fired,” says Padma P., wearing a bright green tunic.

 

"Poor Cedric..." Cho looks heartbroken.

 

“They don’t fire people anymore,” Dean T. argues. His apron is sky-blue with a cheery yellow ribbon tacked onto the edges. “Too many lawsuits. Easier just to make them miserable enough to quit.”

 

The others share a bleak, commiserating look. The swinging door to the break room pushes open and a small group of people - wearing suits and Visitor name-tags - bustles in; they look around and make notes on clipboards.

 

“Reckon they're from the Board?” Cho whispers.

 

"Who wins in a fight, Board versus Corporate? Place your bets!" Dean whispers gleefully.

 

"Considering the Board of Directors, by _definition_ , outranks everyone, I'd say the Board," Padma mumbles. Dean scoffs.

 

"Even Riddle?"

 

"Do you understand what a Board of Directors is?"

 

"He's the CEO!"

 

"And ultimately he's held accountable by the - "

 

“Sooo,” Seamus interrupts loudly, feigning a casual tone. “How ‘bout these paycuts, eh?”

 

“Seamus!” Neville hisses.

 

“Sure am glad Corporate is takin’ away ten percent of me hard-earned paycheck in the form of reduced hours!” he continues, practically shouting. The entire group of suits is clearly listening, but trying to appear as if they aren’t. “Was dangerously close to openin’ up a savings account, I was. Now I won’ have to deal with that _[bleep]_.”

 

Neville groans, dropping his head in his hands and muttering something about another transfer.

 

“Always happy to help them meet their quarterly targets,” he goes on viciously, stretching his arms overhead as if he doesn’t have an audience scribbling notes. “Don’ wanna be too greedy with ma hours. Just below full-time is perfect, if you ask me - “

 

_“Seamus!”_

 

“ - right in the sweet spot between starving and saving. _Mwah!”_ He kisses his fingers with a flourish, as a chef might. “Just perfect.”

 

His chair screeches against the tile floor when he stands. The others stare after him in horror as he walks by the suits, saluting them on his way out.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Dean croaks.

 

* * *

 

10:55am

 

_[Draco follows Harry into the break room. Harry looks sour, on edge, while Draco seems positively gleeful.]_

 

“So your Prince Charming has gone away,” Draco says in a sing-song voice. “Whatever will you do with yourself now?”

 

Harry remains silent as he snatches a paper bag labeled _HJP 25/6_ from the center refrigerator. Draco dogs his heels the whole time. Harry slams the door, whirls around, and throws his paper bag and himself at the nearest table. It’s the sort of table that can split at the center to fold up; a caddy of napkins, straws, and salt  & pepper shakers sits on the centerline gap and Harry drags it over. Draco joins him, perching delicately on the round edge of the table.

 

“And reduced hours, to boot. All this free time and no one to - "

 

"Mine aren't reduced," Harry says flatly, extracting the salt and pepper shakers from the caddy.

 

"Well..." Draco seems momentarily thrown. "Neither are mine!"

 

"Bully for us." Harry unpacks a modest lunch. "Whatever will we do with all our time together?"

 

Two pink spots appear on Draco's high cheekbones, but Harry doesn't notice; his attention is firmly fixed on his ham and cheese sandwich as he wolfs it down. When Draco speaks again, his tone has turned stiff and cold.

 

"I suppose your Weasley clan will be feeling it the most,” he says. “All forty-seven paychecks cut back at once. Pity.”

 

Harry stops chewing.

 

“You shouldn’t lean on the table like that,” is his only reply.

 

“And you shouldn’t speak with your mouth full, but I suppose if they can’t afford enough etiquette lessons for their own baker’s dozen, they won’t spare any on the strays.”

 

Harry narrows his eyes at Draco before seeming to arrive at a decision. Nodding to himself, he remains silent as he finishes his sandwich. Draco watches, waiting, as Harry starts to work on a tupperware container of cold beans, tossing liberal amounts of salt and pepper over it.

 

“Did you hear what I said, Potter?” Draco finally asks, leaning down slightly to try to catch his gaze.

 

“Did you hear what _I_ said?” Harry takes one last bite and begins to shove everything back into the paper bag.

 

Draco blinks, baffled. Harry stands, scooping the bag from the table as his other hand darts under one end of the centerline gap. He pulls. A squeak, a spring-like release, and the table suddenly folds up, sending Draco crashing to the floor.

 

* * *

 

**_Interview: Cormac (Sporting Goods, Aisle 2)_**

 

_[The shelves are full of yoga mats, weight-lifting gloves, and water bottles. Cormac M. wears a red tunic - stretched over an impressively muscled chest - and black athletic trousers. The ensemble is completed by neon-striped socks and a pair of Crocs. He has a strong jaw, thick, bushy eyebrows, and a head of brown curls. All the way down the aisle, in the background, Ron W. sits on the floor, putting together a miniature trampoline.]_

 

"Cormac McLaggen. I've been in Sporting Goods for three years now. Actually, I want to expand what we do here, start up some fitness classes - "

 

_[Distantly, a wrenching metallic sound is heard, followed by Ron grousing. Cormac grins, wide and bright.]_

 

"Ron makes a good teammate. I dunno what this job would be like without him - probably _[bleep]-_ ing _[bleep],_ yeah? He's my bro! You know?"

 

_[His words are simple and light, but there's a quality to his voice that speaks to something deeper. In the background, Ron cries out triumphantly.]_

 

"He motivates me, you know? Keeps me going strong. I do a good ten reps, then Ron walks in and suddenly I can do twelve!"

 

_[Cormac's image blurs when the camera focuses on the background. Ron steps gingerly onto the small trampoline. It's just wide enough for one person to use, and only twenty inches or so above the ground. He takes a few experimental hops. His figure blurs as the camera focuses back on Cormac.]_

 

"Not just anyone can be your bro, you know. A bro has to be everything. He's gotta be smart - "

 

_[Distantly, the trampoline screeches, shifting slightly on the tile floor. Ron throws out his hands for balance.]_

 

"He's gotta be persistent - "

 

_[Ron barks a laugh and starts jumping higher, building a rhythm.]_

 

"He's gotta push you to do more, be better - "

 

_[Ron calls out to Cormac - 'Mac! Mac, look! Look at me!' - before giving way to giggles. Cormac turns to look behind him, watching Ron even as he continues speaking to the camera.]_

 

"He's gotta get on your level, whatever it takes - "

 

_[Cormac turns back around, eyes sparkling. Though the background is blurry and out of focus, the camera catches the moment Ron bounces too high. The trampoline shifts and tips over, there's another screech of metal on tile - louder, this time. Ron shrieks and crashes into the shelving unit. He falls to the ground in a heap, bringing several rows of plastic water bottles down on top of him.]_

 

_[Cormac doesn't seem fazed, doesn't bother to check on his groaning coworker, but his grin couldn't get any wider.]_

 

"Bros will come and go, you know, but this one's a keeper."

 

* * *

11:30am

 

_[Upper Management Offices: Store Manager Mr. Albus Dumbledore. Albus sits behind a large desk, wearing a gold vest. Minerva sits to the side of an elderly couple.]_

 

“Lemonhead?” Albus offers a bag of bright yellow sweets. Minerva abstains, but the couple accepts one lemon drop each. “What brings you here today, Mr. and Mrs. Flamel? I understand you are among the first participants in our new estate sale project?”

 

“The collection crew you sent was thorough, _very_ thorough,” Mr. Flamel says. Beside him, his wife sucks on a piece of candy but doesn’t seem to be able to handle the sour flavor. Her lips pucker, her cheeks hollow, her eyes water. She appears to be in mild pain. “They tore through the lot like nothing I’ve ever seen! I tell you, it was like that storm back in - oh, '81? Remember, dear - ”

 

“Is there a discrepancy in what they collected?” Minerva asks impatiently. “My understanding is that they wouldn’t take anything that wasn’t marked _by you_ for consignment.”

 

“That’s the problem, see…” Mr. Flamel sends a bashful look at his wife, who is still battling the lemon candy. “I seem to have mistakenly tagged something I shouldn’t have. So your crew collected something we’d quite like back.”

 

“And what is that?” Albus asks kindly.

 

“A pair of earrings.”

 

“Can you describe them?” Minerva asks in a bored tone, flipping to a blank page on her clipboard.

 

“Red.”

 

Minerva waits, but no other description is offered.

 

“Red,” she repeats, making a note without looking at the paper. “Anything else to add, Mrs. Flamel?”

 

With great effort, Mrs. Flamel opens her puckered mouth and tries to speak, but coughs instead. The coughing persists, her withered old face turning purple. At long last, she manages to swallow and catch her breath.

 

“Gold,” she wheezes with a hand over her heart. “Dangly.”

 

“It's vital we get them back,” Mr. Flamel says emphatically. “Rarer than you'd believe, these are! Not a set like ‘em. They're _magic_.”

 

“Magic?” Minerva deadpans. Albus raises his bushy white eyebrows and leans forward, intrigued.

 

“Oh yes, these earrings are made from a precious rare gemstone known for immortality! It’s priceless!”

 

“Immortality?” Minerva is not impressed, but Albus makes a quiet “oh?” of interest.

 

“How old do you think we are?” Mr. Flamel asks challengingly. Minerva’s eyes widen slightly as she considers. The couple looks ancient. They seem to be competing for who can look more dead: frizzled white hair, skin so pale it’s almost blue, wrinkles on wrinkles on wrinkles.

 

“One-hundred and five,” she guesses. Mr. Flamel’s face falls.

 

“Why - my dear!” he cries. “We’re not yet out of our forties! Both prone to greys, I’ll admit, but we're quite spry!”

 

Minerva glares at the camera as if it’s to blame for this meeting.

 

“I’d like my earrings back, if you please,” Mrs. Flamel rasps, still recovering from her close call with the Lemonhead.

 

“Priceless, like I said,” Mr. Flamel continues. “World-famous gemstones. I tell you, if word gets out that you have them here, not a villain in this world will pass up the opportunity to get to them.”

 

“Never fear,” Albus reassures them. “I’ll have our finest stock boy retrieve them.”

 

“Albus, Potter doesn’t have access to jewelry, it’s entirely Malfoy's department - ”

 

“Mr. Malfoy will be overwhelmed with buckets and bins of new inventory this week,” Albus says cheerfully. “I’m confident that young Harry will handle this mission with great aplomb.”

 

“I really must insist these are found immediately, sir,” Mr. Flamel says, his brow furrowed in grave concern. “I cannot emphasize enough how far certain people would be willing to go to get their hands on these gemstones.” Albus lifts a placating hand.

 

“I understand - ”

 

“Myths and legends aside, there's not another set like it - ”

 

“Yes - ”

 

“Won’t find another gem this size anywhere, and we’re talking about a matching set!”

 

“Mr. Flamel…”

 

“You'll have the mafia coming out of the woodwork, mark my words!”

 

“Mr. Flamel.”

 

“To leave it to a stock boy, really! He’ll be assassinated before the week is out!”

 

“ _Assassinated?!_ ” Minerva cries, alarmed. “Albus, we need to get the authorities involved here!”

 

“I hardly think that will be necessary, Minerva.”

 

“Albus!”

 

“I have complete trust in Harry,” Albus says with a benign smile. “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Flamel. I assure you, your gems are in good hands.”

 

The couple looks unconvinced - on the verge of panic, actually - but recognizing a clear dismissal, they see themselves out.

 

* * *

 

12:01pm

 

_[In Lingerie, Pansy unbuttons the front of her deep red employee tunic so that it hangs open around a black, scoop-neck top. She examines herself critically in a softly lit mirror in the dressing room alcove. She plunges a hand into her blouse, lifting each breast one at a time to maximize her cleavage, and then adjusts the cups of her bra so that a bit of green lace peeps out.]_

 

_[She catches the camera and licks her lips in an overt display before winking and sauntering out of the alcove, heading for Books. Her hips sway seductively as she approaches her prey at the Help Desk. The focus of the camera lingers, apparently enjoying the view, before the crew thinks to follow. Scrambling, the view jostling wildly, the camera catches up to Pansy just as she begins to speak.]_

 

“Hermione Granger,” she purrs, leaning on the counter with her arms crossed to cradle her chest.

 

Hermione glances up before returning to her notebook.

 

“Oh, are you on break, Pansy?”

 

“Yeah,” Pansy answers in a slightly breathless voice, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. The black cherry shade of her lipstick remains perfectly undisturbed. “And I’ve come...to you.” She lifts a brow suggestively, deploying a dangerous little smirk. Hermione remains oblivious as she flips back a page, looking through the notes.

 

“Did you need something?” Hermione asks after a long pause. Pansy’s expression twists in frustration before falling back to something more neutral.

 

“Oh yes, I’m in need,” she says. “And you’re the only one who can help me.”

 

“What’s that?” Hermione asks distractedly, using her finger to scan the page. Pansy wriggles a finger across the counter and onto the page, reaching Hermione’s finger on a line near the bottom. Their fingers bracket the line, top and bottom, just a centimeter of writing between them. Hermione looks up.

 

“I’m looking for a whirlwind romance,” Pansy whispers. “Long talks, late at night. About anything.”

 

“Anything?”

 

“ _Anything_. Anatomy, for example. I was always quite good with anatomy.”

 

“You can find anatomical references in Medicine.”

 

This stuns Pansy to silence, but she rallies. Staring hard at the other woman, she uses her finger to push the notebook across the tall counter until it bumps against Hermione’s chest.

 

“I’m looking for romance,” Pansy says pointedly.

 

“Oh! Well, I suppose Belrose, then.”

 

“Belrose?”

 

“The romance author. She has a whole series of medical rendezvous. I’m certain you’ll like her work.”

 

“Oh, I like her,” Pansy says. Her suave facade is beginning to crack and she looks a bit stressed. “I like her very much.”

 

“She’s just released a new one, it's called Mouth to Mouth: Straight to Your Heart. We've got an end-cap devoted to it over there, you can’t miss it.” Hermione gestures to the next aisle but Pansy doesn’t move. Hermione pries the notebook out of her reach, using her new bookmark to mark her place before hiding it under the counter. Pansy seems lost. “Is there anything else?”

 

Pansy forces a smile, looking slightly manic, and shakes her head.

 

“No,” she says through gritted teeth. “No, that’s all. Thank you, Hermione.”

 

Pushing back from the counter, she turns to head back to her department, bypassing the Belrose display without a second glance. There’s a distinct lack of sway to her hips.

 

* * *

 

**_Quick Shots: No Sound Recorded_ **

 

_[On the edge of Women's, next to the aisle, Harry and Ginny are conversing excitedly, heads bent together. They snicker, grasping each other's arms as they're overcome with laughter. The shot blurs as the camera focuses across the aisle in Men's, where a rack of blazers appears to bobble and move on its own. There's a rustling movement and then a head pokes out from behind a suit jacket. Blaise is watching.]_

 

 _[In Pet Supply, an enormous wild-looking man is wearing a tan apron. His name-tag has been scratched out and amended to simply read_ Hagrid _. He uses a crowbar to pry the lid off of a large crate. When the lid is loose but not fully removed, Hagrid tosses the crowbar to the side as if it weighs nothing. The crate jostles. There's something inside, and it's big.]_

 

_[In Technology, Seamus rings up a laptop for Mrs. Flamel while Mr. Flamel curiously examines the mobile phones. Mr. Flamel lifts one phone off the display pedestal, only to find it attached to the counter by a hidden security cord. His interest in the phone itself is eclipsed by his new fascination for the retractable cord.]_

 

* * *

 

**_Interview: Draco_ **

 

_[An employee-only area at the back of the store, in a secure room with metal shelving units lining the walls. Draco sits alone on the cement floor among several dozen bins of jewelry. A clipboard is beside him, a fountain pen tucked behind his ear, and he appears swamped with work but perfectly content.]_

 

“Everyone thinks Potter is so perfect, with his stupid hair and those ratty old trainers. When someone else lets their department fall behind, he swoops in with his cart to come to their rescue.”

 

_[Draco snatches up his clipboard, making a note and shoving a newly sorted bin aside. He flips to a new page and pulls another bin close.]_

 

“But not me. I can hold my own without Saint Potter and the Cart that has Never Been Greased, thank you very much.”

 

_[Draco pauses over a string of gaudy costume pearls, wrinkling his nose in contempt. He holds it away from him between pinched fingers, as if its cheapness is contagious, before setting it off to the side and making an angry note on his clipboard.]_

 

“Granted, that means I am one of the only managers here that has no jurisdiction over Potter.”

 

_[He sighs bitterly.]_

 

“He doesn’t stock my department, so he’s not mine to punish when he needs punishing. Which is a pity, because I’m the only one who stands a chance against those big green doe eyes…”

 

_[Seeming to realize suddenly what he said, Draco falls silent, pressing his lips together angrily. He carries on with his work. When the camera doesn't leave, he shoos it away.]_

 

* * *

 

1:46pm

 

_[Lingerie Department. Hermione peers around, clutching a book to her chest. She can't quite see over the racks and shelves around her. She turns a blind corner and lets out a yelp of surprise when she bumps into a scantily clad mannequin. The mannequin - wearing only a thong and a corset - tips forward on its pedestal. Hermione throws her book to the ground, racing around the pedestal and reaching out to catch it.]_

 

“Hermione?”

 

Hermione looks over, hands raised high overhead, grasping the exposed breasts of the mannequin.

 

“Mmm,” Pansy tries to moan, but it turns into a half-smothered laugh. “It’s a wet dream come true.”

 

“What?!” Hermione squeaks, eyes wide with panic. “Pansy! Help!”

 

“Sorry,” Pansy says, poking lazily through a rack of bras just feet away from Hermione’s precarious situation. “I’ve got some zoning to do. Can’t showcase a sloppy department with the Board puttering about.”

 

“So start with the fallen mannequin!” Hermione demands, trying in vain to push the well endowed plastic woman back onto the pedestal. She’s several inches too short to manage it from her current position. When she attempts to shift her grip lower, the mannequin slips out of her grip and falls to the side. Hermione lunges for it, snagging it around the middle before losing her footing. With another yelp, she finds herself lying on top of the mannequin. One hand rests on its waist; her other arm presses against its throat.

 

Pansy grins like a cheshire cat.

 

“I didn't know you were into such games, Hermione,” she says, stepping forward to stand over the tangled mess of limbs on the floor.

 

“Games? Oh!” Hermione looks down at her arm; the head of the mannequin is half-off. “I’m sorry!”

 

“She doesn’t mind,” Pansy says in a husky voice, crouching down beside the partially decapitated dummy while Hermione struggles to free herself. “She likes it rough.”

 

Hermione clambers to her feet, fixing her blue tunic with a huff. A plastic finger is stuck in her bushy hair, but she doesn't notice as she stoops to retrieve the fallen book.

 

“Here,” she says, thrusting it in Pansy's face and lifting her chin in defiance of what just happened. “In case you’ve read all of Belrose, I thought you might like Adora Conti’s med school collection. This one’s called Defibrill My Heart.” On the floor, Pansy reaches for the book with both hands, making sure to brush against Hermione’s fingers. She accepts the book blindly, staring up at Hermione with an adoring expression.

 

“Oh, I am definitely a fan of _Cunti_.” She mispronounces it perversely and Hermione seems ready to correct her. “Can’t wait to get inside.”

 

Hermione shuffles in place, darting a glance at the murdered mannequin.

 

“Do you - er, I’m rubbish with these, but do you need - ”

 

“Enjoy your break, Hermione,” Pansy says kindly, setting the book aside with the utmost care. “Frida and I need some alone time.” Before Hermione can retreat, however, Pansy grasps the mannequin - Frida, apparently - by the groin and hoists it up, leaning its back against her chest. She hooks her chin in the crook of its neck, using the intimate position to fuss with a loose arm connection.

 

Hermione backs away slowly, eyes wide and staring, before turning and fleeing down the aisle. The plastic finger is still stuck in her hair.

 

* * *

 

**_Interview: Harry (Beauty Department)_**

 

_[Harry is stocking hair products near the end of the aisle, keeping an eye out for Draco, who is missing from the Jewelry Counter. Though distracted, he still manages to answer a question posed off-screen.]_

 

“My relatives never liked me. It’s not surprising...they didn’t like my mum marrying my dad, didn’t approve of that sort of thing. Thought she should _stick with her own kind._ "

 

_[He looks away from the Jewelry Counter to glare darkly at the camera for a moment, before reaching out to turn a pot of pomade around.]_

 

“The Weasleys are great. Sort of took me in after I met Ron at school. Didn’t have to spend summers with the Durs - er, with my relatives. Are you - you’re a documentary company, right?”

 

_[An answer is murmured off-screen; the overhead sound-boom doesn't pick it up.]_

 

“So will this be aired somewhere? How’s that work? Do you blur our faces, change the names?”

 

 _[Another muffled answer. A few words filter through, words like_ publicly accessible _and_ website. _Harry does not look pleased.]_

 

“And you don’t need our permission?”

 

 _[Someone answers in the negative, citing_ company-wide image permissions, _before Harry cuts them off.]_

 

“Just seems like an invasion of privacy if you ask me. But who cares what we think, right?”

 

_[There’s a long, awkward pause, until someone off-screen asks loudly: "Are you waiting for Draco?" Harry frowns at the change in subject, but decides to go along with it.]_

 

“Yeah, he's being a wanker again, so Ginny and I thought we’d pull his leg a bit…”

 

_[Before he can elaborate - he looks eager to do so - Draco's blurry image enters the background, carrying a massive bin. Harry abandons the hair-gel and hurries over.]_

 

* * *

 

3:15pm

 

_[Jewelry Counter. Harry runs up to the counter and slams his hands down on the glass. His eyes are wide with panic. Draco drops the bin of inventory, scowling at the smudges on the glass.]_

 

“Potter! Hands!”

 

“Draco!” Harry hisses desperately. “Draco, listen!”

 

Draco bends to retrieve a rag and a spray-bottle of blue cleaning product from a drawer. He sprays Harry fully in the face to get him to back up before dousing the counter thoroughly.

 

“The reduced hours were just the start, Draco,” Harry murmurs, no less alarmed. He tears off his wet glasses and cleans them on his grey tunic. “It’s happening!”

 

“What’s happening?” Draco growls, attacking the glass ferociously with the rag.

 

“Downsizing,” whispers Harry, replacing his glasses. His face is the very picture of horror. Draco freezes, looking up.

 

“Downsizing?” he repeats blankly. “They’re laying people off?”

 

“Shrinking bloated departments...consolidating others,” Harry says, gesturing at the Jewelry Counter. “Listen - I know we’re arch enemies and all, but we need to form an alliance, Draco.”

 

“An alliance?” Draco glances at the camera then back at Harry.

 

“Corporate likes you, but let’s face it, your department’s new. It could easily be reabsorbed back into Beauty.”

 

“And you think you could prevent that?”

 

“Well, outside of Corporate, everyone hates you,” Harry says frankly. Draco closes his eyes and takes a breath, appearing to summon patience from the depths of his soul. “If we stick together, if my reputation rubs off on you, then your department’s safe.”

 

Draco takes his time considering this. He doesn't look fully convinced, but rather curious.

 

“And what will you get out of this arrangement?”

 

“Okay, hear me out..." Harry lifts his hands as if to soothe an irate animal. This only annoys Draco. “You’ve got an in with Corporate and you can get away with a lot more. I need to hear about the other departments, see who’s on the chopping block, so to speak.”

 

“Your Weasels.”

 

“Right,” Harry agrees, swallowing a retort. “I need you to do some spy missions. If I’m caught, I’m fired no matter how much they like me here. But if you’re caught, well, you’re _manager_ of your _own_ _department_.” He lends reverence to his voice, as if this is an auspicious position. “You’re sort of above all that, right? They can’t do anything to you...so long as you have a department to be manager of.”

 

Draco looks quite pleased with this. He lets Harry linger in limbo for a long moment before finally giving in.

 

“Alright, Potter, what’s my mission?”

 

Harry leans close to whisper in Draco's ear, sneaking a wink to the camera.

 

* * *

 

3:52pm

 

_[The Upper Management Break Room. Much the same as the first break room, but smaller, with about a third of the furniture. Bellatrix is smoking at the center table, creating a toxic cloud in the middle of the room. Against the wall by the entrance, as far as possible from the smoke, stand Minerva, Arthur, and Percy. They’re speaking casually while glaring daggers at Bellatrix.]_

 

_[Through the window of the swinging door, a head of white-blond hair can be seen. Draco braves a peek through the glass, spotting his targets. He catches sight of the camera in the room. He lifts a finger to his lips and slowly sinks back out of view. Nobody has spotted him. They continue to chat about the painfully mundane things that people talk about when they don’t have anything to say.]_

 

“Brilliant weather lately,” Arthur claims.

 

“Bit too much sun, I think,” chimes in Percy.

 

“The grass needs it,” Minerva says.

 

Visibly trembling, Draco raises his head once more into view, peering with comically huge eyes at the group near the door. They’re facing away from him, but Bellatrix sees him. She takes a long drag of her cigarette, furrowing her brow, but says nothing.

 

The others stand in silence. At long last, Arthur heaves a sigh.

 

“Well, best get to it. Lots of paperwork this week.” He nods politely at the others before pushing through the door, which only opens halfway before crashing to a stop. “Mr. Malfoy! Are you quite alright? Did you need something?”

 

Mortified, Draco squeaks out an apology and darts away.

 

* * *

 

**_Interview: Ron (Sporting Goods)_**

 

_[A thirty-foot climbing wall is built into the back wall with several feet of padding on the floor. Ron has just finished a climbing demonstration for a small group of customers, leaving Cormac to take over the sales pitch while Ron speaks to the camera. He is wearing special climbing shoes and his hands are coated in chalk.]_

 

“Ron Weasley, twenty-five, been here seven years. My family’s all over Voldecorp. Well, Fred and George are still trying the entrepreneurial thing. But Mum’s in the deli, Charlie’s in Pet Supply, Ginny’s in Women’s, Dad and Percy are Corporate tossers, and my oldest brother Bill drives the armored van that takes the money away every week. We _run_ this place, I tell you, Voldecorp would fall apart without the Weasleys!”

 

_[He seems proud and annoyed at the same time. He stretches his shoulders and swings his arms idly, clapping his hands together to create a cloud of chalk-dust. An off-screen voice asks: “So what’s the deal with Harry and Draco?” Ron cringes.]_

 

“You don’t wanna know, mate. _They_ don’t even wanna know, so they keep tearing after each other like they’re arch enemies or something. Hermione says the best thing to do is just lock ‘em in a dressing room overnight, let nature run its course. But I think they may actually kill each other if they have half a chance, sexual tension or not.”

 

_[At the words “sexual tension,” Cormac looks over. He’s still droning on to the group of customers about properly fitted shoes, but his eyes are locked onto Ron. Seeming to sense the attention, Ron glances over his shoulder, drops a wink, and makes his way back to the climbing wall. He continues talking to the camera as he coats his hands in chalk and starts to climb.]_

 

“Tell you what though, Harry’s my mate and everything, but it’s downright embarrassing to watch him pine over that posh git. He and Ginny had a thing going for a while - Harry and Ginny, I mean - but they didn’t work out. Always thought it would be cool if he was, like, my brother-in-law. And then Harry had some grand sexual awakening and pronounced his love for Cedric. Ruined a perfectly good Sunday dinner.”

 

_[Ron is halfway up the wall when he comes to a difficult section. He grips a false rock by his chest and gathers the points of his shoes together, sinking into a deep squat. He glances over his shoulder - Cormac has stopped talking and is openly staring. Ron looks overhead at his target and bounces a bit in his squat, like a spring ready to release. In one smooth motion, he uncoils in a huge, leaping jump. He’s completely airborne, no points of contact on the wall, until he reaches up and grasps a rock seven feet above. Muscles bulging through his tunic, he quickly adjusts his grip and settles his pointed shoes onto new rocks. Cormac cheers loudly, his voice echoing through the store: “Sweet dyno, bro!”]_

 

_[A blurry figure crosses the frame, blocking the camera momentarily as it passes. The customer standing closest to Cormac catches sight of the person and her jaw drops. She points and chokes out, “That’s - that’s Viktor Krum!”]_

 

“What?!”

 

_[With a scream, Ron loses his grip and drops like a stone to the padded floor. The camera swings around to find a tall man with broad shoulders hustling away. The camera returns to the climbing wall to find Cormac scowling darkly in the figure’s direction. Ron rolls around on the thick padding, trying to get to his feet while jabbering excitedly.]_

 

“Krum! Krum, wait! Cormac, help me up, would you?”

 

_[Cormac growls and stalks away, leaving Ron alone on the pad.]_

 

* * *

4:30pm

 

_[Deep in Women’s Clothing, hiding behind a tall rack of maxi-dresses, Draco and Harry meet to exchange information. Draco is panting, pale cheeks flush with pink.]_

 

“Did you - did you run here or something?” Harry asks, bemused.

 

“No!” Draco gasps, clutching a hand to his chest. “N-no!”

 

“Then why are you breathing so hard?”

 

“They almost caught me! They _did_ catch me, but I was too clever for them, I got away.” Draco sucks in a deep breath to calm himself. He smiles, looking quite giddy, even proud. Harry bites his lip, apparently trying to hold back a laugh.

 

“Too clever, yeah.” He nods, apparently happy to agree. "So what'd you find out, Mr. Bond?"

 

"Malfoy," Draco corrects.

 

"No, I meant - "

 

"Something's happening!" he hisses. "You were right!"

 

"What did you find out?" Harry repeats. He passes a hand over his mouth to mask a grin.

 

"Paperwork."

 

"Paperwork?"

 

Draco nods, sending a significant look at Harry. Harry squints and shakes his head, gesturing for him to elaborate.

 

"Weasley - Human Resources Weasley - "

 

"Arthur, his name is Ar - "

 

"Shut up. HR Weasley was talking about _paperwork_ , says he has a lot of _paperwork_ this week." Draco raises his eyebrows meaningfully. Harry waits for more, but nothing comes. He blinks rapidly, appearing to scramble for something to say.

 

"Oh - _oh!_ Paperwork! Riiight! That is...that is definitely, definitely something, yeah. Definitely suspicious. Paperwork in HR. Brilliant work, Draco!" Harry claps Draco on the arm, hard. Draco winces and opens his mouth to say something, but he's interrupted by a buzz of activity in Women's Clothing. Harry and Draco peer around opposite sides of the tall rack to see a small mob of people led by the broad-shouldered man from Sporting Goods.

 

"Viktor!" Draco's voice brightens and he breaks into a wide smile. Harry's expression turns dark as Viktor Krum winds his way through the clothing racks.

 

"Draco," he says gruffly, pulling free of a random woman's grasp. Though he's the same height as Draco, he seems to tower over everyone. Draco steps out from behind the rack and reaches out, taking Viktor's hands in his own. As Viktor leans forward to kiss Draco's cheek, Harry steps out from behind the other side of the rack, glowering.

 

"Our reservation's not until seven," Draco says, smiling. "Bit early."

 

"You are complaining?" Viktor asks in a thick accent.

 

"I _never_ complain."

 

Ron appears out of nowhere, sweaty and covered in chalk. He ushers people back, strategically placing himself closer to Viktor. In a whirlwind of activity - flailing hands, shouted questions - Draco and Viktor disappear through the crowd, leaving Harry standing alone among the maxi-dresses.

 

* * *

 

Tune in next week for Episode 3: The Warehouse of Secrets!

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits for Episode 2: Thank you to Rose ([musingsofaretiredunicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingsofaretiredunicorn/pseuds/musingsofaretiredunicorn)) for Hagrid stocking questionable creatures in Pets; Estrella ([hogwartsfirebolt](https://hogwartsfirebolt.tumblr.com/)) for Defibrill My Heart and for Viktor's football team/position (which isn't specifically mentioned in this episode, but it's coming soon!), and Tami ([LLAP115](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLAP115/pseuds/LLAP115)) for Mouth to Mouth: Straight to Your Heart.


	3. The Warehouse of Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry acts out against Draco and Viktor, which lands him in a spot of trouble with the wrong side of HR. He escapes, only to stumble upon a mystery in the warehouse behind Voldecorp ™ .
> 
> (CW: Brief cigarette-smoking in this episode.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Jess ([Nifflers_n_nargles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nifflers_n_nargles/)) for making me finally finish this episode that's been sitting in my WIP folder for far too long. And oodles of thanks to Rose ([musingsofaretiredunicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingsofaretiredunicorn/pseuds/musingsofaretiredunicorn)) and [Phoenix4Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix4Dragon/) ([Tumblr](https://phoenix4dragon.tumblr.com/)) for their lightning-fast beta work! What a Drarry squad we have, where I can put up the bat-signal and get two betas on my work within minutes.

 

* * *

 

 

**Episode 3:**  The Warehouse of Secrets

 

**Summary:** Harry acts out against Draco and Viktor, which lands him in a spot of trouble with the wrong side of HR. He escapes, only to stumble upon a mystery in the warehouse behind Voldecorp ™ .

 

(CW: Brief cigarette-smoking in this episode.)

 

* * *

 

 

July 2005

 

5:02am

 

_ [Security office. Three walls are covered in monitors, floor to ceiling, that show every part of the store. A low counter is mounted below the monitors with three swivel-chairs tucked underneath. An intercom mic on a short-stand is in the middle of the counter.] _

 

Arriving for the day, Lee J. turns on the fluorescent lights and throws himself into the nearest chair, rolling clear across the spacious office and landing in front of the intercom in a practiced move. As he reaches forward to flip the switch of the intercom, he blinks at a screen on the far wall. He abandons the intercom, using his feet to scoot his chair over to the screen.

 

The camera focuses on the monitor, but the screen is pixelated in our footage. Lee’s eyes go impossibly wide, veins bulge in his neck, and he lets out a funny squeak. The label under the censored monitor reads: SPRTS -  _ Equipmnt Display - Inversion Tbls / Yoga Slings. _

 

Lee reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, giddily opening the camera app, but then seems to reconsider. Looking slightly regretful, he slips his phone back into his pocket and rolls back to the intercom, eyes never leaving the screen.

 

He flips the switch.

 

“GOOD MORNING, VOLDECORP EMPLOYEES!” he roars. 

 

Feedback screeches as his voice screams from a distant speaker in the hallway. The camera swings back to focus on the pixelated monitor just in time to catch a dramatic shift in pixels, as if something large on the screen has fallen. Lee flips the switch off to compose himself, then flips the intercom back on, swallowing a laugh.

 

“It sure is a  _ pleasurable _ morning here at Moldecorperated, made even more satisfying by the view! Have you seen the view, folks? Positively smashing. Even more smashing upside down. Even  _ more _ smashing in - ”

 

“Lee?!” The door is thrown open by a tall woman wearing a shawl over her tunic. Her voice is light and ethereal, but urgent. “What in the celestial sky is the meaning of this? Shouting? With the moon just set? You’ll invite bad energy into Voldecorp, my dear boy.”

 

Lee mutters something under his breath about  _ plenty of energy to go around _ , then returns his attention to the intercom with a round of dull morning announcements for the employees.

 

* * *

 

**_Quick Shots: No Sound Recorded_ **

 

_ [In Women’s, Ginny ducks behind a rack of clothes to check her mobile. She’s received a text from Lee. She blocks the camera’s view of her mobile, so it focuses on her face instead. She begins reading the text with a mischievous grin, which suddenly drops into disgust.] _

 

_[On the other side of Women’s, Cho stares helplessly at a mannequin dressed in the latest fashion. It’s truly hideous and especially unflattering on anyone not made of shiny white plastic._ _A large woman in a manager’s vest, her nametag reading Olympe M., shoos Cho away. When she’s alone, she proudly primps the mannequin’s clothes.]_

 

_ [In Beauty, Severus speaks to a woman in-depth about a new line of organic conditioners.] _

 

* * *

 

10:59am

 

_ [The jewelry counter. Viktor Krum is chatting up Draco. The focus blurs as the camera focuses on Harry stocking, un-stocking, and re-stocking the same shelf of moisturizers. He’s a fair distance away from the jewelry counter and facing the other way, but still within earshot. His shoulders are tense.] _

 

“I want to try that new place, next to the old boutique?” Draco prompts Viktor, who frowns.

 

“The little cafe?”

 

Draco arches a brow. “There’s no television, of course, but - ”

 

“I don’t need a television to entertain me,” Viktor says with a smirk, leaning his elbows on the glass counter. Pressing a long finger to his firm chest, Draco pushes him off the glass and wipes it with his ever-present microfiber towel. The camera shifts focus briefly as Harry drops a bottle of lotion, which explodes all over the sleek tile floor. Draco snorts derisively, then pulls Viktor’s attention back to him. Their conversation continues in low tones as Harry cleans the mess with stiff, jerky movements, muttering to himself.

 

“Did you get my text?” Viktor murmurs, leering. Draco scoffs.

 

“It’s unprofessional to have my mobile around while I’m on the clock.”

 

“But did you get it?”

 

“I’m working. My mobile’s in a locker in the back.”

 

“It’s sexy…”

 

_ “Vik!” _ Draco hisses, but his grin betrays him.

 

A customer distracts Draco, so Viktor dismisses himself, saying something about visiting the Sports department before heading to the cafe. By the time the customer leaves, Harry has approached the counter. He leans forward, but the section of the counter rolls forward on casters, upsetting his balance and eliciting a growl from Draco.

 

“Back!” he snaps, flicking the towel at Harry as if he were a troublesome cat. Harry raises his hands in surrender and Draco pushes the mobile counter-section back into place. It’s a small section about the size of a mini-fridge, designed to wheel in and out of place to allow someone through to work the counter without sacrificing display case space. The camera follows Harry’s gaze as he spots a section of aluminum trim that is coming off the side. He fiddles with it, unnoticed, as Draco cleans the glass again.

 

“Hot date tonight?” he says amicably, but there’s an annoyed edge to his voice.

 

“I’m meeting Viktor for lunch, if you must know.”

 

Harry steps close, still fiddling, and blocks the camera’s view of the trim. Harry tries again and again to make conversation with Draco, who resolutely ignores him, before he gives up and steps back. The camera immediately focuses in on the aluminum trim, which has been crammed into the trim of the adjacent counter to create a long seal.

 

“See you, Draco,” Harry says, retreating with a smirk. He heads back to his cart, stuffs a load of moisturizers on the shelf without care, and hurries away.

 

* * *

 

**_Interview: Argus F. (Custodial Closet)_ **

 

_ [Argus F. is wearing an old but carefully mended brown tweed suit. Using a hose that extends from the sink, he fills a yellow rolling mop bucket with the utmost care to avoid splashing himself.] _

 

"Argus Filch. I've worked here for over fifty years. I'm the most senior store employee. Started as a part-time window-cleaner, but they bumped me up to a full-time custodian pretty quick."

 

_ [He shuts off the water and attaches a straining mechanism to the mop bucket. He stands up straight and smooths his suit.] _

 

"Got another promotion comin' soon, I can feel it. Dress for the job you want, right, so I wear my suit to work every damn day."

 

_ [His eyes go a little wild and he shuffles in place, gripping the handle of the mop bucket with white knuckles.] _

 

"I can  _ feel _ it. I'll have a place with those Corporate buggers before the year is out, mark my words!"

 

* * *

 

12:00pm

 

_ [The jewelry counter.] _

 

Draco puts up an  _ Out to Lunch _ sign to take his lunch and grasps the mobile section of the counter. It shifts, but doesn’t move. He checks for an obstruction under the wheels then tries again, and again, and again. A lock of carefully-styled hair comes loose. He catches sight of the camera. He pushes his hair back into place with a huff and straightens, peering around casually but with a spark of panic in his eyes. As casually as possible, he removes his sign and resumes minding the counter, occasionally letting his eyes drift to the broken counter that has trapped him.

 

* * *

 

12:41pm

 

_ [From a distance, near the Upper Management Break Room, the camera catches Ms. Minerva McGonagall leading identical twin redheads over to Argus. The brothers appear to be in their mid-twenties and they’re wearing matching purple suits and top-hats reminiscent of Willy Wonka. The camera jostles as the crew rushes down the hall to join them just as Argus leads the twins into the break room.] _

 

_ [By the time the crew catches up and the sound switches on, Argus seems thoroughly displeased by what the twins have to say.] _

 

"No."

 

"Listen, Argy - can we call you Argy?"

 

"That's Mr. Filch to you!"

 

"Right - Filchy, listen."

 

"Obviously they value your opinion here - "

 

"Which means it's entirely up to you whether our fine products make it onto your fine shelves."

 

"Squeaky-clean, your shelves.” 

 

“Best shelves in town!”

 

**_Cut to: Parking Lot, interview with the twins, later_ **

 

“Sometimes, we’ll start a sentence - ”

 

“ - and we don’t even know where it’s going.”

 

“We just hope we find it along the way!”

 

**_Return to Argus_ **

 

Argus levels a sharp, considering look at the twins, murmuring under his breath. The twins - sporting homemade nametags that read Forge and Gred - seem to take this as encouragement and begin setting up a full presentation. Forge drags over a round table while Gred heaves the heavy suitcase on top, popping open the snaps and swinging the lid up to reveal a colorful array of products.

 

“We’ve got sweets - ” Gred pulls out a long strand of pink taffy that seems to stretch on forever.

 

“We’ve got Swamp Bombs - ” Forge pulls out a grenade that looks vaguely mushroom-shaped. 

 

Argus flinches violently and tries to protest, but the boys go on. They drag out increasingly nonsensical items, each more strange than the last. There’s something _off_ about them; the colors change seemingly at will, the shapes wriggle and shift without being touched, the chocolates _float_ _in the air!_

 

Argus gapes openly at a pair of yellow sweets orbiting each other several inches above the table.

 

“How’s it do that?”

 

“Trade secret, my friend,” Forge answers, plucking the sweets out of the air. He tosses one to his brother, who catches it in his mouth, swallowing whole. Argus cries out in shock when Gred sprouts yellow feathers out of his red hair.

 

“What is this sorcery?!”

 

Gred drops a wink and opens his suddenly beak-shaped mouth to answer with a squawk. Argus falls back, smacking the tile floor in a dead faint.

 

* * *

 

1:05pm

 

_ [HR Offices, in the basement.] _

 

Draco exits Ms. Bellatrix Lestrange’s office, noticeably disheveled. Bellatrix holds the door for him with a dark, determined look.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy,” she says with a wide, Grinch-like smile. “I’ll handle this matter personally.”

 

Draco nods stiffly and nearly walks right into the camera. He purses his lips and stalks past the crew. Bellatrix slams the door, rattling the glass. A brief pause, and then manic laughter comes through. The camera jostles wildly as the crew makes a hasty retreat.

 

* * *

 

1:14 pm

 

_ [Lee’s voice comes over the intercom system. The camera finds Harry in Books, whispering urgently with Hermione, as a familiar announcement is made.] _

 

“Attention, employees. Attention, employees. Mr. Harry Potter, please report to Warehouse Sector B. Repeat, Mr. Harry Potter, gird your loins and meander on down to Warehouse Sector B.

 

“Godspeed, man.”

 

_ [The intercom clicks off and funeral procession music plays in stark contrast to the upbeat, generic pop.] _

 

* * *

 

**_Interview: Hagrid_ **

 

_ [Pet Supply, live animal section. Hagrid is shoveling animal dung into a wheelbarrow marked Gardening. He speaks to the camera rapidly, but slightly shyly.] _

 

“I reckon she’s the most beau’iful woman in the world, that Olympe Maxime. It was love at first sight. Actually, it was... No, it was when I heard her voice. It was love at first see-with-my-ears.”

 

_ [Red blossoms across what little of his face is visible under his beard. His eyes sparkle.] _

 

“Won’t want nothin’ ter do with me, o’ course. I reckon a woman like that can get anyone in the world.”

 

_ [He’s heartsick, but he doesn’t falter in his task. The camera picks up a soft sound off screen and swivels to catch Parvati cradling a rabbit, apparently on break. She’s staring at Hagrid with her head cocked to the side in thought. Hagrid doesn’t notice her.] _

 

* * *

 

3:25pm

 

_ [Security offices. With wide eyes, Lee grabs the camera operator and drags them into the office, shushing the crew with a finger to his lips. Without a word, he directs them to a set of monitors in the corner marked: WAREHOUSE.] _

 

“That’s Harry…” he mutters, pointing to a figure on the black-and-white screen. The image is of lesser quality than the rest of the store’s security cameras, but the camera focuses on the screen to watch a blurry figure hustling away from the door marked SECTOR B.

 

“Still wearing his tunic, that’s a good sign…” Lee whispers. “Cedric tore his off as soon as he was out of there.”

 

The figure disappears from the screen marked SECTOR B and the camera flounders for a moment before Lee directs it to another screen. SECTOR C. The figure wanders past C, D, E, F, and G, then doubles back after I. There is no SECTOR H. With bated breath, Lee watches Harry linger between G and I, before taking off through the vast warehouse at a brisk pace.

 

“Don’t get curious, Harry…” Lee urges. But the figure explores the warehouse with reckless abandon, darting between the huge industrial doors at each sector. “No!” Harry goes down a dimly lit corridor, narrower than the rest. The image is so dark it’s hard to make out on the grainy screen, but he reaches the end of the corridor to find a single door.

 

The screen he’s on now is older than the rest, the last among hundreds in the security office. Its peeling label reads SECTOR HX.

 

The door to the office opens and the shawl-clad woman enters with a huge mug of tea.

 

“Lee?”

 

“Sybill!” Lee grabs the camera operator again and drags them bodily away from the ancient monitor, but it’s too late. Sybill spots the activity on the screen and snatches up a walkie-talkie.

 

“Get out of there, mate!” Lee hisses, staring at the image helplessly.

 

“Trelawny to Pettigrew,” Sybill barks into the walkie. 

 

_ “Go for Pettigrew,” _ answers a reedy voice.

 

“We have a situation.”

 

In an act of desperation, Lee lunges for the intercom. He smacks the radio system with one hand, cutting off an easy pop tune in the middle of the chorus. He fumbles with his phone, scrolling through the music app, before switching on the intercom and pressing his phone to the mic. [JoJo's voice sings out mid-song,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggWyUEuGcWY) warbling through the speakers with a tinny-sound but still recognizable:

 

_Now that you're here boy all I want is just a chance to say_  
_Get out (leave) right now!_ __  
It's the end of you and me  
  


Lee presses his thumb to the screen, jumping back in the song to start again in roughly the same place:

 

... _just a chance to say  
_ _Get out (leave) right now!_

 

And again:

 

_Get out (leave) right now!_

 

The camera swings back to focus on the monitor, but finds it empty. Just moments later, a security guard reaches SECTOR HX. He looks around, then lifts something to his mouth. The reedy voice, now slightly winded, rings out from Sybill’s walkie:

 

_ “No one here. Are you sure?” _

 

“I saw someone!” Sybill insists. Lee carefully eases his phone away from the intercom, switching the radio back on while his coworker is distracted.

 

_ “Gone now. Are you sure it wasn’t an insect on the screen again?” _

 

Too annoyed for words, Sybill drops her walkie on the counter and drags a chair over, setting up camp in front of the old monitor and watching it with huge, glittering eyes.

 

* * *

 

3:55pm

 

_ [Upper Management Offices: Store Manager Mr. Albus Dumbledore. Albus sits behind a large desk. Harry shifts uncomfortably in his seat.] _

 

“So...I’m not in trouble?”

 

“Oh, my dear boy, no!” Albus laughs, offering a lemon drop. Harry accepts warily.

 

“This is just about some old earrings?”

 

“It’s imperative that we retrieve them from Mr. Malfoy’s extensive jewelry stock,” Albus says seriously. “Or at least protect the inventory until they can be recovered.”

 

“Shouldn’t you be speaking with Security, then?”

 

Albus studies Harry over his half-moon spectacles. “I have the utmost faith in Voldecorp Security to do the jobs assigned to them. That is to say, I don’t want to overstress them with additional duties.”

 

“Me, on the other hand...” Harry mutters under his breath.

 

“I am confident you’ll keep an eye on Mr. Malfoy and his stock until this matter is resolved.”

 

Harry nods and seems about to leave, but hesitates. “Sir?” He pauses, then rallies. “Bellatrix called me down into the warehouse earlier - “

 

“Ah, that… Never fear, Harry, I’m sure you’ll overcome a little browbeating. It builds character, as they say.”

 

“Who says?” Harry snaps, but Albus pretends not to hear. “And it’s not that, exactly. I, er - got lost on my way back and noticed something.”

 

“Something?”

 

“There is no Sector H,” he goes on. Albus blinks politely at him but says nothing. “There  _ is _ a Sector HX, but it’s away from the rest, down a ways…”

 

“Down a corridor marked ‘authorized personnel only,’ no doubt,” Albus says, eyes twinkling.

 

“I got very lost, sir.”

 

“I don’t venture into the warehouse much myself these days.” Albus rummages in his desk and procures an aged keycard, worn from use. “My knees aren’t what they used to be. I wonder, Harry,” he says after a pause, as if changing the subject, “if you could use this to help you in your quest.”

 

“My quest, sir?”

 

“To retrieve the earrings, of course.”

 

Harry grins and takes the keycard. “Of course.”

 

* * *

 

**_Quick Shots: No Sound Recorded_ **

 

_ [In Beauty, Harry follows Draco round and round the jewelry counter, trying desperately to speak with him, but Draco is apparently too busy. The glass cases have never been cleaner. In the distance, security guard Peter Pettigrew watches them for a while before pulling out a mobile and snapping a quick photo.] _

 

_ [In Lingerie, Pansy slouches next to a return rack in a secluded corner, reading  _ _ Defibrill My Heart _ _ by Adora Conti, the book she received from Hermione. Utterly absorbed, she chews on a manicured fingernail, smudging her dark lipstick.] _

 

_ [In the aisle between Sports and Technology, Ron and Cormac are in a heated argument. Seamus stands frozen nearby, pretending not to listen. He stares at an entire wall of television screens playing a recap of a Liverpool FC game, with plenty of Viktor Krum highlights. Ron and Cormac part ways, Ron returning to Sports and Cormac storming off into Technology. On his way past, he snatches the remote from Seamus’s hand and turns the channel to a children’s cartoon.] _

 

* * *

 

4:35pm

 

_ [Employee Break Room. Seamus and Dean have cornered Harry as he texts urgently on his mobile.] _

 

“So you talked to Bellatrix?” Seamus asks. “What's it like to stare into the eye of Satan's butthole?”

 

“Can’t talk right now - have you seen Luna?” Harry looks around the crowded breakroom, but Luna is nowhere to be found.

 

“C’mon, mate,” Dean presses. “What happened?”

 

“You’re still in one piece,” observes Seamus.

 

“She needs a  _ virginal _ sacrifice for her dark rituals,” Dean says as Harry pushes past them and hurries out of the room.

 

“What, and that can’t possibly be our Harry?”

 

“Have you  _ seen _ Cedric?” he scoffs. “Harry’s no virgin.” A sputtering sound alerts them to Draco’s presence; he’s choking violently on a Jamba Juice at a table across the room and turning pinker by the second for want of air. Next to him, Severus sits as still as a statue, glaring at the wall.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Interview: Luna_ **

"I’m on a mission."

_ [Luna stands just outside the Upper Management Break Room, speaking in her usual ethereal tone. Through the window of the swinging door, Bellatrix is smoking a cigarette using a vintage cigarette holder. She glances up, shaking her wild hair out of her face, and the camera operator ducks down fast, nearly dropping their equipment.] _

“I’m to keep Ms. Lestrange occupied while Harry investigates a curiosity in the warehouse out back.”

_ [Luna stoops to pick up a rubber doorstop, carefully maneuvering it into the gap under the swinging door. Using her foot, she wedges it tight and turns it slightly, then tests the trap. The door sticks tight.] _

“We’ve worked it out with Lee. Once Trelawny takes her break, Lee will send Pettigrew on a goose chase... I do wish I could help, I adore geese!”

_ [Luna ducks her head and begins braiding her hair directly in front of her face. She spares a moment to wave blindly but energetically to the security camera down the hall.] _

“That’s my job done. When Lee gives the signal, Harry will move.”

_ [As if on command, the light jazz music over the speakers fades away to be replaced by the _ _[Mission Impossible](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XAYhNHhxN0A)_ _theme.]_

 

* * *

 

Tune in next week for Episode 4!

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits for Episode 3: Thank you to Estrella again ([hogwartsfirebolt](https://hogwartsfirebolt.tumblr.com/)) for Defibrill My Heart and for Viktor's football team/position! (Again, his position isn't mentioned here...but he's a striker, okay? There. Mentioned. No idea what it means, but it's been mentioned now.)
> 
> No promises that I'll post next week since I clearly can't be trusted with a deadline, but I'll give it a shot!


End file.
